THE STYLISH POTATO
The stylish potato gazed at his image in the mirror. Admiring what he saw, he flicked a mote of dust from his perfectly tied cravat.
“You’ve still got it, you handsome devil,” he remarked.
Whistling, he donned his top hat, took up his cane, and exited the room, blowing a final kiss to the handsome devil in the mirror.
“Oh, Mr. Freddy, you look splendid!” gushed the parlor maid, a reedy sprig of parsley if ever there was one.
“If you’ve got it, flaunt it. That’s what I say. I always say that,” stated the stylish potato, winking.
Then the house collapsed, and they were both killed.
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